Against All Odds
by dannica webb
Summary: After Gibbs leaves, Abby and Tony must learn to cope. Post-Hiatus, Abby/Tony friendship, hints of Abby/Gibbs. Prequel to Love and Country. M for mention of abuse in final chapter. Complete.
1. she still sleeps with the light on

AN: Title is from the Phil Collins song Against All Odds. This chapter's title and lyrics come from the song This is a Call by Thousand Foot Krutch, one of the big inspirations for this story. Against All Odds will be 4 parts, and it will be followed by a multi-chapter Abby/Gibbs fic. Friendly warnings...I have not watched most of the episodes after the fourth season yet, so my knowledge of later canon is a bit shaky. The story is set during the events of Hiatus, the intervening four months, and Shalom, and plays a little with the events in those episodes. I also will eventually be taking some liberties with Abby's backstory.

**against all odds ;; i – she still sleeps with the light on**

_she fools all of her friends into thinking she's so strong_

_but she still sleeps with the light on_

_and she acts like it's alright on as she smiles again_

_and her mother lies there sick with cancer_

_and her friends don't understand her_

_she's a question without answers who feels like falling apart_

_she knows she's so much more than worthless_

_she needs to find a purpose_

_she wonders what she did to deserve this_

_and she's calling out to you_

_this is a call, this is a call out_

_cause every time i fall down i reach out to you_

_and i'm losing all control now and my hazard signs are all out_

_i'm asking you to show me what this life is all about_

Later, after he's gone, Abby confides in Tony that she snuck into Gibbs's room at night while he was in the hospital. She couldn't help it, you see. Seeing him lying there in that hospital bed, trapped with his pain...it manages even to pull her from the investigation for a few brief hours here and there. Between visiting him and trying to catch Pula, she doesn't think she sleeps at all until Mike Franks shows up.

She doesn't tell Tony what it feels like to sit there, alone, as he breathes through a tube. She doesn't tell anyone, especially Tony, that she thinks she knows what he's dreaming about; Ducky suspects, of course, but Abby feigns innocence, something she's good at. It's Gibbs's story to tell. The only reason Abby even knows about it is because once, a long time ago, they shared scars. She doesn't tell Tony that she believes Gibbs saved her then, and that's part of why she watches over him now.

And the rest of the reason? Well, that she doesn't even reveal to herself.

After the first few nights, she gets braver, and moves the chair to his bedside. The abrasions on his face make her want to cry; they make her want to touch him, to beg him to wake him up, to let him know she doesn't know how to cope without him there. She does none of these things. Eventually she works up the courage to hold his hand. Mostly she just sits and prays.

At first, after hearing he's woken up, she still comes in at night when everyone else is gone. The nurses are used to her now, although she usually manages to stay out from under the watchful eye of Madame Director. Everyone is so tied up in the investigation that she's grateful they don't notice. There's no one there to make her leave, as long as she is careful.

The first night she comes in after he wakes up, she is a little shaken after learning of his memory loss, and she moves away from his bed again, settling in the chair across the room so as not to startle him. He's mostly asleep and probably medicated, so she's pretty sure he doesn't notice, and she makes sure to leave before he wakes up.

The next night, the TV is still on when she comes to see him, and she lingers in the hallway, wondering if she should just leave. This is insanity, and she's lucky that no one but the hospital staff and Ducky have caught her at it yet. She's pretty sure she's broken some caffeine intake record a thousand times over, and she has to be back at NCIS by six am to work on the case. A sigh escapes her as she debates, and she supposes he hears it, because a gruff, "Come in or get out of the damned doorway," issues from the direction of the hospital bed.

She peeks her head in, and after a few seconds, she walks over to the chair near the bed and sits down, unzipping her boots and pulling her bare legs up underneath her. Reruns of Seinfeld are piping in through the speakers on either side of the bed, and Abby supposes there's nothing else really worth watching on at two am, anyway.

"Who are you?" he asks in the same gruff tone, his eyes not moving from the TV.

She doesn't flinch at the words, and this surprises her. She's tried to wrap her exhausted, terrified brain around the fact that Gibbs – who knows her more than anyone in the world – could forget her, but knowing this fact is far different from experiencing the reality.

"I'm Abby," she says quietly, wrapping her arms around herself and studying him. Usually, when she is around Gibbs, she is moving and talking nonstop, but the last few weeks have taught her a patience she didn't know she possessed.

After a few more moments, he impatiently turns off the episode and finally looks at her. "You look like hell," he says.

"Thanks, Gibbs," she whispers with a short laugh, her voice breaking on the words. She changed her clothes on the way over, but she's pretty sure the shadows under her eyes are growing shadows of their own, and her usually meticulous makeup application is halfhearted at best.

He studies her with an intent curiosity, and finally having the weight of her own stare turned back on her makes Abby self-conscious. Her eyes drop to her lap, where her hands are intertwined. She's fighting the urge to hug him, or maybe to run out of the room.

"Shouldn't you be trying to jog my memory?" he says abruptly. "It seems like every time I get a new visitor I have to hear their life story."

She looks up at him again, a guarded smile on her face, imagining Ducky re-telling every one of his long, drawn-out tales in this hospital room. She wonders if amnesiac Gibbs is as impatient with Ducky as the old Gibbs, and then she figures if she were in his position, she'd be pretty damned impatient with everything.

She clears her throat. "My name is Abigail Sciuto, but everyone calls me Abby. I'm the forensic scientist at NCIS. I started working there six years ago, just before you transferred permanently to the Washington office."

A look of disbelief crosses his features, and Abby has a flash of deja vu. "_You're_ a forensic scientist?" His pointed glance at her many – visible – tattoos doesn't escape her notice.

"You said the same thing when we first met," she responds quietly. "But not too long after we became – well, we were – friends."

He looks a little chastened and a little like he's wondering if she's putting him on. "I'm sorry I don't remember you," he says.

"Never say you're sorry. You taught me that."

The conversation afterward is a little stilted, and Abby needs to get back to the lab, anyway, so she pulls her boots back on to leave just as he's getting his next dose of medication. She gives him a little wave before clasping her hands again to keep herself from grabbing him and not letting him go. She feels his eyes following her curiously as she walks away.

The following night, as she gets into her hearse to drive away from NCIS, she tries to convince herself that she should go home. She hasn't been back to her cold, empty apartment in what feels like a lifetime, though, and before she can stop herself she's taking the exit for Gibbs's house and she's in his basement, inhaling the scent of sawdust with such relief that a few tears finally escape down her cheek.

She sits down heavily in the chair next to the Kelly, drawing her knees up to her chest and letting herself cry for the first time since Gibbs got hurt. It's the first time she's cried, really, since Kate died. It doesn't last very long and it's not very loud. It doesn't really make her feel better; it just brings back the moment that McGee called and told her Gibbs was in an explosion, the moment she's been trying with everything she has left to forget.

After she dries her eyes, she grabs his red hoodie from where it's resting on the unfinished planks of the boat and impulsively slips it over her head, hugging it to herself and inhaling the smell that she thinks of as uniquely Gibbs.

For a second it feels like home.

After she walks out of his house and carefully closes the door, she gets in the car and drives to the hospital, almost on autopilot. He's dozing when she reaches his room, but one eye cracks open after she's settled herself in the chair.

"Hi," she says, unsure of herself.

"Hey, Abbs," he says unthinkingly, reaching to press the button that'll raise up the headboard of the bed. Then he meets her eyes, surprised.

"You remember."

He shakes his head. "Not...really. I just...it felt right."

"You call me that sometimes," she says. Then she signs, 'Do you remember this?'

A glimmer of hope settles in her chest when he raises his hands hesitantly, signing, 'Sort of. At least...I think I know how.'

"My parents...were deaf," Abby says after a moment, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them, holding his gaze. "You had a deaf friend who taught you. Sometimes we use it to annoy the others, especially Tony," she adds with a small smile.

He doesn't return the smile, not quite, but his gaze softens a little. They sit in silence for a little while and then make small talk. She says she's fine and he doesn't question the lie, just lets his eyes linger on her wan skin and the shadows under her eyes. She ducks her head from the intensity of his gaze.

When she gets ready to leave, she takes off the sweatshirt and gives it to him. "It's yours," she says. "I was...borrowing it. Maybe having some of your own things around will help." She doesn't add that the smell of antiseptic doesn't suit him, that it's no wonder he's not himself in this place. They both abhor hospitals, and the fact that he's not asking her for help to break out is more than enough to convince her of the severity of his amnesia.

"Bravo yankee echo," he says to her retreating back, and the corners of her mouth quirk up.

After work the next evening, she doesn't even bother fighting the urge to return to the hospital, although she won't be able to stay for long. Things have heated up with the investigation, and anyway, Madame Director and the former Agent Franks are hanging around most of the time, trying to help him remember. She's not really needed.

He's blessedly awake when she comes, though, eyes on the door as if waiting for her.

She takes the same chair, scooting it a bit closer to his bed. "I should probably stop coming," she says. "Let you sleep."

He reaches for her hand, surprising her. "Don't," he says, and she squeezes his hand, hesitantly letting hers rest on top.

"Can't stay long," she adds, but the sadness of that thought is chased away by the comfort of feeling his fingers in hers. "Have to get back to NCIS. Work on the case." She stifles a yawn with her other fist.

"You should be the one sleeping," he says impatiently, tugging her down until her head rests on the bed next to him.

"You sound like the old Gibbs," she responds softly as her eyes close. "Can't sleep. Worrying."

He lets go of her hand, and she sits up quickly. "I still don't remember," he says. "But...I feel...more comfortable when you're here."

She half-shrugs and half-smiles tiredly. "That makes two of us," she responds.

He motions for her to rest her head again and she does so, because as much as she's determined to get back to the lab and help the rest of the team, her body has long since passed its limits. And it's only when she's with him that she's able to relax enough to even think about sleeping.

His hand hesitantly finds its way into her inky hair, and she lets out a sigh at the touch. "I remember doing this," he says as he smoothes her hair down, but she barely registers the meaning of the words, just the sound of his voice, as she drifts off.

When Ziva shows up in the pre-dawn hours, she finds the two of them like this.

With a start, Abby wakes and sits up quickly. "Oh, God, what time is it?!" she exclaims. "I have to get back to the lab."

"It's only four-thirty," Ziva responds from behind her. "Tony can wait another hour or two, Abby."

The kindness in Ziva's voice makes Abby hope that maybe things will be okay between the two of them, but in her urgency the thought is replaced with the worry of her babies sitting alone in the lab. She offers Ziva a small smile, though, as she stands and collects her things, and then, still fighting the overwhelming desire to hug Gibbs, hugs Ziva instead.

The other woman seems surprised, but Abby is out of the door with a quick goodbye before either of them can say anything.


	2. you with the water and me with the pain

**against all odds ;; ii – you with the water and me with the pain**

Title and lyrics from Fountain by Sara Lov.

_fountain, fountain we are the same_

_you with the water and me with the pain_

_turning it over again and again_

_don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?_

_don't you wish you could throw your pennies back at them?_

_fountain, fountain we are the same_

_it is so beautiful how you remain_

Three days after Gibbs is gone, Tony knocks on the door of Abby's lab. It's been closed ever since Gibbs walked out, and he suspects Abby hasn't left at all.

She opens it. "What's up?"

"Can I come in?" he asks. He doesn't remember ever saying those words to her before; Abby has to be the most open person he's ever met, in almost every sense of the word. Her lab is the team's sanctuary, and until she's back to – well, as normal as any of them can be right now – the rest of the team is going to be off-kilter, too.

She steps back and he walks past her, surveying the room. Her music is off, as it's been since Gibbs first got caught in the explosion, and there are evidence boxes piled next to the exam table.

"We don't have any open cases."

"I know, Tony," she responds with a slight roll of her eyes. "I'm processing some old evidence from cold cases. I like to do it whenever I can get a break." She walks past him to remove something from the mass spectrometer, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

Once she's set the vials back on the exam table, he lays a hand on her shoulder, nudging her to face him. "You can't live in the lab, Abbs."

She meets his gaze finally with a challenge behind her tired green eyes. "Wanna bet?" Pulling away from his touch, she makes a few notes on a sheet of paper.

This time he grabs her hand, intertwining her fingers with his before she can pull away. "I know I'm not Gibbs, Abby," he says, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. "But you _can_ talk to me."

She looks up at him and he sends up a silent prayer that she's too tired to fight. Someone up there is smiling on him, he thinks, as she deflates somewhat, leaning back against the edge of the table. "I'm sorry I said that to you earlier," she whispers. "I know I'm not the only one..."

"The only one hurt?" Tony responds with a short laugh. "Not hardly, Abbs. But I don't blame you."

She lets him pull her into a hug, for which he's grateful. "He's coming back, isn't he?" she mumbles into his shirt. "I mean, he can't just...be gone."

Tony hugs her more tightly, feeling the weight of her pain settle somewhere in his chest uncomfortably. Abby depended more on Gibbs than any of them, and he knows if he himself felt shortchanged by Gibbs's actions before he walked into that elevator, it pales in comparison to what she must have felt. He doesn't think himself capable of lying to her, so he doesn't answer.

Finally she steps back slightly, her eyes staring off into space as her arms wrap around her stomach. "If I leave the lab, it'll be real. I won't be able to pretend he's just gone on a case anymore," she explains softly. "I can't..." She shrugs, unable to explain more.

He pulls her to him again, kissing her forehead. "You need to get some sleep. Let me take you home, Abby," he says quietly into her hair.

The next day is Sunday, and Tony drives to Gibbs's house, where Abby insisted he take her instead, to check on her. He knocks on the door, which he made sure to lock behind himself the previous evening, and when she answers she's dressed in one of Gibbs's shirts and smells faintly of sawdust.

She doesn't say anything, just steps back and waits for him to walk past her before closing the door. He stands there awkwardly for a moment as she turns and goes back up the stairs to Gibbs's bedroom, before following her. This feels sacrilegious, and any moment he's expecting Gibbs to come give them both a head slap or a tongue-lashing. Perhaps as evidence of just how upside down the world has become, no lightning strikes him as he follows Abby into his boss's bedroom and flops down next to her, on top of the covers.

He's never been in Gibbs's bedroom before; in fact, he's pretty sure of the team, only Ducky and Abby have probably known Gibbs long enough – or well enough – to see the upstairs of his house at all. Still, he's fairly certain that Abby has made one or two changes in the decor; either that, or their boss has a latent narcissistic side. There are pictures of Gibbs on every available surface, and Abby has wrapped herself around one of his pillows.

Tony is not sure what to say. He's not blind; he knows what Abby's doing probably isn't healthy. He also doesn't blame her. If he weren't so worried about keeping the team together, he'd probably be indulging in some bad coping mechanisms of his own, he decides, sparing a thought for the good bourbon he knows is probably in the basement.

Tony doesn't fault Gibbs entirely for leaving him behind to lead the team; as an agent, he knows he is more than worthy of the job, and that is not exaggeration. His anger at Gibbs is for leaving behind his family. He wonders if Gibbs really just expects them to be able to go on with their lives, and sometimes, especially when he contemplates the pain of the woman next to him, he thinks of Gibbs lying on a Mexican beach somewhere getting drunk and he has this overwhelming desire to punch a hole in the wall.

McGee seemed to be getting along okay, but then, McGee hadn't been with Gibbs for nearly as long as Tony and Abby. Ziva hadn't either, but there was an inexplicable bond between her and Gibbs. Then again, no one would suspect Ziva of having emotions, the way she went about things. But sometimes he catches her eyes in an unguarded moment and knows there's more there. He and Abby have always relied on Gibbs, as a mentor and as a friend. Gibbs knows him better than anyone else in the world, and he knows the same is true for Abby.

In the present time he is beginning to think of as AG, or After Gibbs, Tony drives Abby home to Gibbs's house only a few more times before he starts bringing her home with him in the evenings. They compromise; she doesn't argue when he forces her to sleep or eat, and he lets her bring a few of the pictures from Gibbs's house. He doesn't complain when she takes a while to say goodbye to the Kelly, and he waits patiently as she painstakingly moves the things in Gibbs's bedroom back to the way they were.

Abby is the only woman to ever share his bed with no sex involved, and there's no discussion when she takes up residence there, seeking solace in his embrace. Two months AG, Jenny stops bothering him about her worries over Abby's well-being; the music comes back on in the lab, if not in its former intensity or decibel. Abby can occasionally be seen pouncing on McGee, or impulsively hugging one of the unsuspecting workers in the evidence garage. If she doesn't smile as much anymore, well, no one remarks on it. And when she wakes up in the night crying or gasping for breath, Tony lets her pretend in the morning that everything is okay.

Sometimes, he thinks maybe it really will be.


	3. he's starting to get nervous

**against all odds ;; iii – he's starting to get nervous**

Title and lyrics from This is a Call by Thousand Foot Krutch. The first part of this chapter references the events in Shalom.

_he tells everyone a story cause he thinks his life is boring_

_and he fights so you won't ignore him cause that's his biggest fear_

_and he cries but you'll rarely see him do it_

_and he loves but he's scared to use it_

_so he hides behind the music cause he likes it that way_

_and he knows he's so much more than worthless_

_he needs to find the surface_

_cause he's starting to get nervous_

_and he's calling out to you_

_this is a call, this is a call out_

_cause every time i fall down i reach out to you_

_and i'm losing all control now and my hazard signs are all out_

_i'm asking you to show me what this life is all about_

Four months AG, Abby has developed a sugar habit that almost rivals her caffeine habit, but otherwise she's nearly back to her usual self. The pictures of Gibbs in her lab and the bedroom Tony has come to think of as theirs are a constant reminder of what they've lost, but they are making it on their own. Ziva comes over to the apartment once or twice a week to hang out with them, and if she finds their living arrangements odd, she's nevertheless been very understanding. So when Tony leaves Abby in Ziva's hands for the week he is gone for a security conference, he feels pretty confident about it.

But then he flies home and Ziva doesn't make it to work and everything becomes a bigger mess than he thinks he's ready for. He's almost relieved when Gibbs comes back, and he knows it means more to Ziva than she will ever show. It's when Gibbs holds himself at arm's length and swears he's just visiting that Tony feels the pressure to maintain control. He won't let Gibbs rip them apart all over again.

He braces himself, but he still feels the sting when Gibbs leaves without saying goodbye, and when he makes his way out of the squadroom and down to the lab, Abby's sitting forlornly on her swivel chair, hugging Bert.

"He's gone again." It's not a question.

Tony wraps his arms around her, breathing in the scent of gunpowder that is uniquely Abby. "I'm sorry, Abbs."

"Not your fault," she murmurs. "And I'm sorry, too." She grabs his hand, squeezes it.

They stay like that for awhile before Tony pulls back and suggests they go home. When they run into Ziva in the elevator, Tony has to hide a wave of anger that Gibbs so easily left Abby, twice, while coming back for Ziva. He doesn't resent Ziva, but occasionally he wishes he'd been able to overcome his own uncontrollable need for Gibbs's approval and attention and kick the older man's ass for what he's done to them.

Abby, however, is as affectionate with Ziva as ever. "Want to come over for dinner?" she asks, prodding Ziva playfully. "I was forced to watch Agent Hall Monitor eat carrot sticks for lunch and now I have the overwhelming desire for steak." Tony and Ziva both laugh at that and let Abby lead them to Tony's car.

Tony is surprised how quickly things seem to recover equilibrium after Gibbs leaves them again. The pictures of Gibbs in the lab are back, but after a week or so Abby's nightly episodes even let up a bit. The team is working better than ever, at least, without Gibbs, and even the new probie is starting to fit in. Sort of.

Tony's headed from the squadroom down to the lab to bring Abby a Caf-Pow! when he almost – literally – runs into a visitor. "Can I help you?" he asks.

"I'm looking for Abby Sciuto," the man replies curtly. "I'm her brother."

"Oh!" Tony says, slightly perplexed, and holds out his free hand. "I'm Tony DiNozzo. I work with your sister. I'll take you down to her office."

The visitor shakes Tony's hand before following Tony back into the elevator and down to Abby's lab, where the door is open and the music is up to full blast. They're heavy into a case and Tony knows Abby's been working steady non-stop for several hours. He smiles when he sees her dancing from the mass spectrometer to the examination table, pigtails bouncing.

"Abbs!" he calls over the music, before walking over and poking her side.

She jumps and squeals. "Tony! I thought I told you about sneaking up on me." She's distracted by the smell of Caf-Pow! as she reaches over to turn the volume down. "You _know_ I don't have results for you yet."

He grins, giving her a squeeze. "I'll be back in a bit. I just wanted to bring your visitor down."

When he moves so she can see her brother, he expects her to exert typical Abby exuberance – especially considering, as far as he knows, Abby hasn't seen much of her family since she began working at NCIS. He is not expecting the sudden tension that sets into her shoulders. She reaches over to turn the music off.

"Abby, is everything okay?" he asks.

She shrugs, her gaze turning from her brother back to him. "Sure," she says. "I'll call you when I have the results." She gives him a small smile and shoos him out of the lab, but her voice is unusually restrained.

He stands in the doorway long enough to see them begin a hesitant conversation in sign language, then turns back to the elevator, realizing her brother is deaf and probably read his lips during their conversation. He shoves down a twinge of annoyance, deciding he _really_ needs to start taking classes so he can perfect his eavesdropping skills.

When he comes home that night to an empty apartment, panic worms its way into Tony's gut, exacerbated by lack of sleep. The case ran late and Abby was stuck back at the lab with McGee while he and Ziva were in the field, so they planned to ride back in separate cars. But Abby should have been home by now. When he doesn't get an answer on her cell, he tries McGee's as he gets back in the car.

He's heading the direction of Gibbs's house when McGee answers. "Do you know where Abby is?" Tony interjects without preamble.

"Right here, boss," McGee responds quickly. "Want me to give her the phone?"

"Where?" Tony repeats, frustrated at McGee's non-answer.

"Her apartment, boss. Here," the younger agent responds as if Tony should know this, and a second later Abby's voice comes on the line.

"I didn't mean to worry you, Tony," she says quickly.

"It's okay, Abbs," he responds with a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair, which has migrated from perfectly coiffed to sticking up all over the place in the fury of solving the case. "D'you want me to wait up for you?" She's rarely gone back to her place in the time Gibbs has been gone, except to pick up a few of her things, although she has kept the rent and electricity current. He doesn't want her to feel forced to stay at his apartment.

"Actually, could you come get me?" she asks quietly.

"Sure," Tony responds, and waits for her to hang up before hanging up himself. He still has a bad feeling about the whole situation, but the fact that she doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger – and that she's with McGee – means he can do the speed limit on the way over. He doesn't quite trust McGee with Abby's emotions since the two of them split, but he knows the other man would protect her with his life.

When he lets himself into Abby's apartment, she's standing by the window in her living room, staring up at the stars, and McGee is pacing pensively. Both of them are distracted enough not to hear him come in.

"Listen, Abby...just think about it. Okay?" McGee says, reaching to lay a hand on her arm.

She turns away from the window and sees him, and Tony notices an expression of relief flit across her features. "Thanks for coming, Tony."

"No problem." He stays near the door, unsure of what he's interrupting. No one really knows what goes on with Abby and McGee; no one ever found out exactly when and why they broke up. Their friendship is usually very strong but sometimes their past causes tension, and Tony has the sinking feeling this is one of those times.

Abby turns back to McGee. "I'm not interested, okay?" she responds seriously. "Please, McGee. I'll see you tomorrow," she adds, practically pushing him towards the door, which she walks past Tony to open.

"Fine," McGee says, but Tony detects some anger in the probie's – or rather, senior field agent's - voice. McGee doesn't say anything else as he reaches to close the door.

Once he's gone, Abby leans back against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor with an exhausted sigh.

"What was that about?" Tony asks, resting against the arm of the couch as he looks over at her.

Abby shakes her head tiredly. "Long story."

He shoots her a grin, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows she knows he's worried. "When has that ever stopped you?"

She rolls her eyes and reaches an arm out so he can pull her up. "I'm just going to throw some stuff in a bag, then we can head home."

That night, the throes of her nightmare have such a hold on her that Tony has to call her name repeatedly to get her to wake up. When she does, she's gasping for breath and fighting his embrace. As soon as she's awake enough to realize her surroundings, or maybe even before that, she bolts from his bed to the ensuite bathroom and he hears the distinct sounds of retching.

He follows her, grabbing and wetting a damp washcloth before kneeling next to her to hold her dark hair back. He can tell she's crying as she throws up the little she's eaten that day, and then dry heaves for several minutes afterwards. After what seems like an eternity, she reaches up to flush the toilet, then sits back on the tile heavily and takes the washcloth from him, wiping her face.

He wants to ask her what she dreams about. He wants to ask her what's wrong. But instead he waits until she stands, and when her legs are so shaky she nearly collapses, he picks her up and carries her back to the bed.

They're lying side by side when she takes his hand and sighs heavily. He looks over at her but she's staring at the ceiling.

"McGee's dad was a decent human being," she says. "He doesn't understand what it's like to...not have a relationship with your parents." She stumbles hesitantly over the words, which is very un-Abby-like, but getting her to really talk about anything emotional these days is difficult. "His dad died when he was in high school, and he wishes every day that he could see him again."

Tony clears his throat, rolling over on his side and studying her face. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. "This have anything to do with why you two were arguing?"

Abby catches her lower lip between her teeth pensively. "My brother came to tell me my dad's dying," she says after a few moments.

He's not sure what he expected her to say, but it's not that. Abby doesn't talk about her family much. "I'm sorry, Abbs."

An abrupt, rueful laugh escapes her lips. "Prostate cancer. And _I'm_ not sorry. That probably makes me an awful person."

A few tears escape her eyelids and he reaches up to brush them away. "You feel whatever you need to feel."

She shrugs. "Haven't seen my dad in fifteen years. McGee thinks I should 'reconcile' with him, whatever that means. Says I'll regret it later if I don't."

"Will you?"

"That's the hell of it. I don't know." She sighs again and cuddles into his chest.

Tony runs a hand through her hair, his chin resting on top of her head. He wonders what happened between Abby and her dad, but he's afraid if he pushes it she'll stop talking about her past at all. Briefly, he wonders what Gibbs would do in this situation, but then he just gets angry at Gibbs for abandoning Abby, so he shoves that thought down. "What did your brother say?"

"Oh, Eric's always blamed me." Abby takes Tony's free hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. "He thinks it's my responsibility as a daughter to be there for my father." She pulls back a bit from Tony's embrace to meet his eyes, but keeps a grip on his hand. "What do you think?"

Tony thinks his opinion doesn't really matter, so he says, "I think you should do whatever feels right, Abby."

She chuckles again, resting her head against his chest. "Well, you and your dad have a bad relationship. He's never been there for you." She swallows hard. "If he were dying, would you be there for him?"

Tony doesn't have to think about that question; the answer is bred into him. His father is a first class son of a bitch, but when push comes to shove, the man is still his father. He's not sure it's what she wants – or needs – to hear, but he can't lie to her, so he answers quietly, "Yeah, I would. Family trumps everything."

Her voice is heavy with unshed tears when she whispers, "Of course. Tell Gibbs that."


	4. will you think that you're all alone whe

**against all odds ;; iv – will you think that you're all alone when no one's there to hold your hand? **

Title and lyrics from Permanent by David Cook. There is a bit more Gabby in this chapter, although not quite as much a peek into Gibbs's side of things as I'd hoped to give - I ended up cutting this chapter a bit short and deciding to leave the rest of the storytelling for the sequel, _Love and Country_. So if you enjoyed this story please look out for that one. I hope to post the first part within the next few days.

_is this the moment when i look you in the eye?_

_forgive my broken promise that you'll never see me cry_

_and everything, it will surely change even if i tell you i won't go away today_

_will you think that you're all alone when no one's there to hold your hand?_

_when all you know seems so far away and everything is temporary, rest your head_

_i'm permanent_

_Curiosity killed the cat._ Abby is nothing if not curious, and she thinks with trepidation that this is the real reason she's returned to New Orleans. The idea of reconciliation is a little beyond her, and she got closure a long time ago – at least, she thinks she did, when she's not too busy wondering what "closure" really means, or trying not to think about it at all. McGee and Tony's well-meant advice does weigh on her mind, but it's the _what if_ that gives her the cojones to make the plane reservations, to ask for the time off from work, to make it all the way to the airport and on the plane without turning back.

Until, of course, she's sitting in the passenger seat of a rental car next to Tony, speeding down a side street towards her uncle's bar, and then...well, then she can't decide if she wants to throw up or jump out of the car and hop the next Greyhound the hell out of there. So much for courage.

In this instant she is eternally grateful that Tony insisted on coming with her, and she leans over the console to lay her head on his shoulder. She's a little worried about leaving her babies alone with a temp intern, and she knows Tony is worried about leaving matters in the hands of McGee, but it's just the weekend and cases have been slow anyway. She swallows her longing for the familiarity of her lab as Tony pulls into the parking lot in back of the bar.

Her uncle is standing behind the bar drying a glass when they enter, and the familiarity of the scene causes something to tighten in her chest. No matter how many times she leaves, this will always feel like home to her, even when it shouldn't anymore. Shadows filter through the stained windows of the bar, flickering across the dim room. She's always loved this place in late afternoon, just before the crowds rush in.

"Abby!"

At his enthusiasm she can't help but smile, and she rushes around the bar, meeting him halfway and crushing him into a hug. Well, really, it's the other way around; her uncle Teddy dwarfs most men. She pulls back a second later, reaching for Tony's hand to pull him over towards them.

"Tony, this is my Uncle Teddy. Teddy, Tony DiNozzo...a friend."

They exchange pleasantries and Teddy fixes Tony a drink before he turns to Abby again, all seriousness. She swallows hard. She knows he knows why she's here, and somehow she longs for the comfort of simpler times, when she could just come to visit her uncle and moonlight as the confused, geeky high school girl pretending to be a cool bartender on weekends.

Things weren't even all that simple then. They never were.

"I told you not to come," he says quietly, but they're standing close enough to Tony that she knows Tony can hear them talking, so her hands come up instead, the movements choppy, impatient. Tony hates it when she keeps anything from him but he trusts her enough not to demand an explanation...right now, anyway. At least, she hopes he does.

'_He's my father,'_ she signs emphatically. She can read Teddy's overprotective worrying in the lines of his face, and it's not that she doesn't understand – she does. But she thinks maybe she can't bury this anymore. Maybe she shouldn't.

_'You don't owe him anything, Abby._' Teddy takes a tense breath as her eyes flicker away from him, and he reaches out to turn her face towards him once more. _'Eric_ or _your father_.'

"Don't I?" she responds out loud, harshly, before turning away from him and grabbing the keys off the bar. "I'm going to the hospital. I'll be back later."

Tony, who has been watching the exchange with muted interest, stands, but she motions impatiently for him to sit back down. "I'll be fine," she adds insistently before he can say anything, reaching to squeeze his hand. "I'm sure my uncle will have no problem passing the time with embarrassing stories of my childhood." As she turns to push the door open, she shoots Teddy an entreating glance. _'I love you,_' she signs, before disappearing through the door.

***

Tony's on his third glass of bourbon before the conversation really starts to get interesting. It's a Sunday and Teddy's not opening up the bar, whether out of respect for his dying brother-in-law or because of Abby's visit, Tony can't tell. Somehow he thought it'd be awkward to be stuck alone with Abby's uncle while she's gone, but the alcohol seems to help. He's even coaxed a few childhood stories out of the other man.

The conversation is silent for several moments before Teddy asks, "What are your intentions with my niece?"

Tony blinks owlishly, more from surprise than from the alcohol (he's not _that_ drunk yet, honest), setting his glass down onto the bar a little harder than perhaps is warranted. "It's not like that with me and Abby," he responds, utterly serious. "We're just friends."

Teddy, looking like a man who's been through this rodeo once or twice before – and like someone whose bad side Tony would _not_ enjoy being on – raises an eyebrow in such an almost Gibbs-like manner that Tony feels a sudden stab of longing in his gut. "Oh?"

The corners of Tony's mouth quirk up ruefully. "Yeah." He takes another long sip of bourbon. "Her heart belongs to someone else," he adds regretfully, setting his chin in his arm, which is propped up on the polished bar. "But we're...well, family," he says finally, wistfully.

"Good," Teddy responds emphatically. "That's good. She deserves somebody decent in her life." He takes another swallow of the amber liquid. "Lord knows she's spent her whole life trying to make things better for everybody else."

Tony is relieved he meets with her uncle's stamp of approval, because he is really sure he wouldn't want to take this guy in a fight. But mostly he's enjoying the pleasant haze that always comes after a few glasses of good bourbon, at least, unless you're a morose drunk – Abby is, but Tony usually isn't. He thinks Gibbs would be, though. No, Tony is a thoughtful drunk, and sometimes that can be more dangerous.

***

Everything about New Orleans is just like she remembers, which is part of the reason, she thinks, that she doesn't come back here. It's enough to have nightmares about her childhood, to have spent so many years ignoring her mother's death, her father's abuse, her brother's rejection. There are plenty of things she loves about the city of her childhood – the smells, sights, sounds. Being able to walk down the street and not feel like the freak she sometimes does around the Navy Yard. The comforting familiarity of knowing the streets like the back of her hand.

But there are other things that will always be the same, things she doesn't miss. Her father's dismissal. She isn't sure, standing over his hospital bed, what she expected from him; perhaps that like so many dying Catholics he would seek repentance for his sins. But for David Sciuto to repent for anything, he'd first have to admit he was in the wrong, and it would be a cold day in hell before that ever happened. And Eric, sleeping the sleep of the righteous, merely looks at her as if she should have come prepared to apologize to their father – for what, she doesn't know.

She doesn't miss the words getting stuck in her throat. She doesn't miss feeling like a child, terrified and alone and unable to defend herself.

When Abby finally returns from the hospital, all the lights are off except the upstairs den, where she can hear her uncle and Tony talking. She's not sure if it's exhaustion or just the desire for solitude that drives her to go straight back to the guest room, but she collapses in bed with barely enough energy to pull off her shoes and slide under the covers. She slides deep under the waves of slumber, sleeping the sleep of those who have no closure and no longer expect any. When Tony follows her to bed several hours later, she's too far gone to feel the tension radiating off him as she cuddles unconsciously into his arms.

Later, she's not sure what exactly she did to upset him. Their parting with her uncle in the morning is cordial enough, after she assures Tony that she doesn't want to stay for a few more days. She thinks the plane ride back is mostly alright. But the silence the whole way home, and once they are inside his apartment, is stifling – not the comforting simplicity she's used to. She wants to chalk it up to jet lag, but after they both shower and are in bed, he turns away from her, and she can't help feeling stung.

"What's wrong?" she asks quietly, and if she thought she might be reading him wrong, his clipped response tells her she's not.

"I'm fine."

If she weren't busy being disturbed by the lack of communication, the passive-aggressiveness of his remark might have amused her. When he lets out a heavy sigh, she presses, "Right. You've barely spoken two words all day today. What the hell is your damage?"

He rolls over and pins her under the weight of a heavy stare, and she swallows hard, suddenly wondering if this is a conversation she wants to have right now. "_My_ damage?" he asks, and starts to say something else but cuts himself off. The unspoken question still hangs in the air, though, choking her.

Abby emerges from under the covers, walking over to the window across from the bed. "You're angry at me...why? Because you had to pry the story of my sordid childhood out of Teddy?"

His voice softens, just barely. "He thought I knew. Otherwise he wouldn't have said anything." She hears the rustle of the sheets – he's sitting up, and she can feel his stare on the back of her neck. "Dammit, Abby, I can't be there for you if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. I would never have let you go back there if I'd known – "

She turns around at that, her green eyes flashing. "_Let_ me?"

He meets her gaze steadily. "You know what I mean." Tiredly, he runs a hand through his mussed hair. "McGee's advice was well-meant but even he would have changed his tune if he'd known the kind of man your father is."

She can tell the last few words are hard for Tony to push out. Her father was not a father. He was an abuser, a jailor; connecting the word "father" with the man she left in that hospital bed is difficult even for Abby. She lets her gaze drop to her hands as she leans back against the windowsill. "I should have told you," she acquiesces finally.

"Why didn't you, Abbs?" Sadness is woven into his words. "Do you even trust me?"

Her head snaps up at that. "It's not about trust, Tony. Of _course_ I trust you." She holds his gaze, walks over to the bed, willing him to believe her. "I don't talk to _anyone_ about this."

"You talked to Gibbs."

Abby doesn't answer at first, because she knows there's no defense she can offer. It's a guess, albeit an accurate, well-informed one, and offered with no small measure of hurt on Tony's part that she never came to him. She does look away first, though, as she sits down heavily on the edge of his side of the bed, facing him.

"It was a long time ago." The little Gibbs knows of her past was found out mostly accidentally; Abby was a bit of an emotional wreck when she started working at NCIS. They never spoke of what she told him, short of her exacting a promise from him not to go after her father, just as they never spoke of his revelations to her about Shannon and Kelly.

Tony reaches for her hand, snapping her out of her reverie. "I can't be him, Abby," he says almost apologetically. "But I want to be there for you. And I can't when you don't talk to me."

A few tears escape her eyelids and she reaches up angrily to brush them away. "I don't want you to be Gibbs, Tony," she counters with some vehemence, squeezing his hand. "He's irreplaceable." Tony's face nearly falls at that, and she adds, "And so are you, dammit. You're my _best friend_." She leans forward, her forehead against his. "I love you. I don't want you to be anyone else."

His thumb strokes the back of her hand as they stay that way for a few moments, and she's ready to breathe a sigh of relief until he pulls back a bit. "You're in love with him."

It's not quite an accusation, but it's not a question, either. She doesn't pull her hand away, but she turns her head as a wave of emotion tightens around her heart. Around the lump in her throat she manages to say the thing she's been thinking all along, when she lets herself think about Gibbs at all. "Yeah. Not like it changes anything."

She's busy trying to fortify her walls as she brushes off the declaration, makes it sound less than it is. But everything is just too much, and when Tony pulls her into his lap and wraps his arms around her, the bitter, warm tears spill over. "How long?" he asks, brushing his lips against her forehead.

"I don't know," she admits truthfully, in a whisper. "It doesn't matter." She sniffles, catching her breath. "A long time."

"It _does_ matter, Abbs," Tony says, resting his cheek against her hair. "It does."

"No," she counters, anger creeping into her voice, "it doesn't." She leans into his chest, saying the words that she knows they've both been thinking all along. "It was hard when we lost Kate, but he _chose_ to leave us, Tony. Twice." Her hand finds his again, gripping it, trying to find the strength to say the thoughts out loud. "No, it wasn't just about us – it was about the job, about the politics. About his damn coma. But he walked away from _everything_, Tony. Not just NCIS." _He walked away from me._

Somehow once she's said the words out loud, the implication that has haunted her all along – that she's not good enough, that they _weren't_ enough, that they didn't mean enough to him – it doesn't seem quite as big or scary or earth-shattering as it does in her head. Somehow laying her insecurities bare in front of Tony makes the burden a little easier to carry. But mostly she's just exhausted.

"When Tim told me about the explosion, I thought I'd never be so scared in my life," she says softly against Tony's chest. "Seeing him in that hospital bed...I thought as soon as he got his memory back I'd try to find the words to tell him." She gives a rueful, despairing chuckle. "Life is too short, and all that. But then...then he just left. He didn't even give us a chance to say goodbye. And when he came back...it was just business. He wasn't _our_ Gibbs anymore." Her voice breaks on the words. "You guys are the only family I have now. And he wasn't... he didn't want to be part of it anymore."

She can feel the dampness of Tony's tears against her forehead. She doesn't think she's ever seen him cry, not even since Gibbs left. Tony is their rock now, the one holding them together, and she wishes he didn't have to bear it alone. As they both lay down again, she pulls him close and sends up a silent prayer that they'll be okay. All of them.


End file.
